


In the Moment

by JessicaPendragon



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 01:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5111651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaPendragon/pseuds/JessicaPendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sound of the bowstring is a dissonant cord and she winches as the arrow veers far from the target. There are a few lucky ones stuck into the hay, but many arrows join the twigs and leaves of the forest outside Skyhold. She had thought for one hopeful moment that his idea of private training sessions would not involve so much armor and sharp things, but she should have known better. Her Commander, always so dedicated.</p><p>She sighs and all her notions of a romantic rendezvous drift away in the exhale. “How many years in the templar order and you never thought to pick up a bow?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Moment

**Author's Note:**

> A giveaway fic for velynven.

The sound of the bowstring is a dissonant cord and she winches as the arrow veers far from the target. There are a few lucky ones stuck into the hay, but many arrows join the twigs and leaves of the forest outside Skyhold. She had thought for one hopeful moment that his idea of private training sessions would not involve so much armor and sharp things, but she should have known better. Her Commander, always so dedicated.

She sighs and all her notions of a romantic rendezvous drift away in the exhale. “How many years in the templar order and you never thought to pick up a bow?”

Cullen gives a huff of his own as fingers relax around the string. “It was never necessary.”

“And it is now?”

She thinks he gives a little shrug, but it’s hard to tell with that mountain of a mantel around his broad shoulders. “As the Inquisition’s commander, I should better know all the basics. I cannot ask of them what I cannot do myself.”

“That’s ridiculous. You can’t do everything, Cullen. You’re going to drive yourself mad.”

He looks away for a moment, jaw clenching with unsaid words. She knows him well enough to see they’ve struck another wrong note, but not well enough to know the tune of this hurt. Venura moves closer and leaves all her own frustrations behind. Fingers brush over Cullen’s and lift the bow back into position.

“You’re too rigid. You must be firm, but fluid as well.” She touches the tip of her own bow against his thigh to coax him into a better stance. Cullen pulls back on the string, pauses, and lets the arrow fly. It sticks into the very edge of the target. A good start, but not quite victory for either of them just yet.

“Good. Do it again.” She can see the wheels of his mind working with every piece of advice she gives, cataloging and repeating them like they are battle formations.

She steps closer, pressing against his side and holds onto his arm. “Stop counting. It’s all one movement, one moment. Take a breath and let it go. Let it stretch and slow the world until you are ready. Live in the breath for as long as you need.”

The concept is romantic, but it is the only way she can describe the way time seems to slow down the line of wood and flint. It took many tries to find the endless place between the pull and release and there is comfort in the gesture when her duties become heavier than any bow.

They lift the weapon together in a dance as deadly as it is beautiful. Cullen grows even larger as he fills his lungs with a greedy breath and Venura holds her own, waiting, as he lets it go in one long string. The arrow sings through the air and the sound of it piercing inside the second ring is music to her ears. She squeals and turns to congratulate him, but the words cling to her tongue. Cullen’s eyes are on her and are doing more than just looking. She feels the heat of his gaze in waves across her cheeks, brushing against her lips in tickling tendrils.

“Thank you, Inquisitor,” he says in a way that makes her notice the small space between them despite the distance of their stations.

“Yes well, don’t get too confident. There’s still a lot more I need to teach you.”

“Of course.” He takes a step back but it feels like he’s closer than ever. “You have my attention.”

* * *

Her fingers move fast. Too fast. The thin bowstrings twang heavy in her ear, the soft fletching scratches against her cheek. There are plenty of arrows sunk deep into the old tree, but there is too many lost within the twisted foliage of the Arbor Wilds beyond. No matter how hard she tries to find her forever moment, the present looms unwilling to be forgotten.

The beat of thousands of feet still echo in her ears as the Inquisition marched towards their enemy. Tomorrow they will press onward and meet Corypheus’ forces head on and all she can do is wait. Wait and watch as her people fall, as precious time runs through their fingers.

“Inquisitor?”

Venura jumps at the sound of his voice and the arrow dives into the dirt only a few feet away. She turns with a scowl. “Cullen!”

Palms open up in supplication. “I’m sorry to have startled you. I came to see if you were alright…are you alright?”

“I’m…” She shrugs, but the weight remains. The desire to unburden herself is great, but she knows how much is already on his shoulders. “I must be tired, that’s all.”

Cullen shakes his head. “That’s not it. You’re worried about tomorrow.”

“I just feel like I’m leading us blind. Anything could await us.” She is not used to feeling so off center. She is observant, careful, clever, but the enemy’s plans are as tangled as the vines wrapped around the trees to her now.

“The Inquisition can handle Corypheus’ forces.”

“I know, but-”

“Ven.” A hand covers her own and the noises of the jungle dim as her heart thuds in her ears. She will never get enough of the way his touch thrills and soothes at the same time. Cullen helps her position the bow and draw an arrow back into place. “Just breathe.”

Venura’s laugh vibrates down the bowstring. “Where have I heard this before?”

“It’s sound advice,” he says as his hands move to her hips. Thumbs rub small circles into her shirt and warmth seems to curl in lazy lines up into her chest. “We have done all we can to prepare. Tomorrow is nothing you can control. Find your moment here, now.”

Wood creaks as she pulls taunt for the release. The arrow points steady towards its target, but her attention is drawn elsewhere. There is the gentle rhythm of his breath on her skin, the sight of him standing strong yet soft from the corner of her eye.

A ridge forms between Cullen’s brows as Venura drops the bow and arrow to the ground, but his confusion is silenced as she wraps her arms around his neck and steals the words from his lips with hers. The blaring symphony of her worries fades away until they are alone on an empty stage. She forgets about what will happen with the dawn. There is only the quiet thrill of this moment caught up in nothing but his embrace. Time stretches and she cherishes every second of their small eternity.

“Found it,” she whispers, mouth curling into a blissful grin against his.

When he smiles back, it’s an arrow straight to her heart. “Good. Do it again.”


End file.
